The darkest hour is nearest the dawn
by Frayed Misfit
Summary: Severus experiences Christmas in 12 different ways. A response for TheOriginalHufflepuff's 12 fics of christmas challenge.
1. Dance

**General Disclaimer: **Nope, I'm not J.K Rowling.

**Author's note: **This is my response to the Twelve Fics of Christmas challenge, set by TheOriginalHufflepuff, they will all be drabbles really and set between 1960 and 1998, portraying the various Christmases of Severus Snape. I hope you enjoy them, and Merry Christmas!!

**The 25****th**** of December 1965**

**-Dance-**

Severus' eyes blinked with the lights of the Christmas tree, they were blue and white, like snowflakes, like the bruises that made landmarks of his body.

His mother and father were in the next room, when his eyes were half closed he thought they were dancing; their arms reaching for each other, their bodies moving out of reach.

When he asked his mother why his father ran at them like that she would smile, her lips pulling unfaithfully on each side.

"It's just a dance, my darling, just a dance."

Her body was like snowflakes too, like fallen snowflakes on dark mud, patches of pure white almost lost amid the red welts and dark bruises.

His mother and father were dancing on Christmas, his father would give him snowflakes for presents.


	2. Mirror

**The 25****th**** of December 1970**

**-Mirror-**

The ornaments on Lily's Christmas tree were made of glass. Severus had never seen anything quite as beautiful, the way they spun and caught the light in the hallway, the way that when Severus reached out and held one, it mirrored his reflection.

His overlarge coat that his mother had found in a back alley on her way home from work, his hooked nose that did not seem to fit on his sunken face, his empty black eyes – all captured within the little ornament.

Lily tapped him on the shoulder, her hair bouncing on the collar of her dress.

She pulled a large round decoration off the tree.

"You can see they whole world reflected in here," she tapped the glass, "Mum says that at Christmas time you have to think about the whole world."

But Severus could only see himself.


	3. Surprise

**The 25****th**** of December 1971**

**-Surprise-**

Severus counts the steps it takes to get to Lily's house.

When it is snowing it takes 764, his chin buried into a frayed woolen scarf. On Christmas day it takes 1232.

He takes the long way around; the thick smog from the factories clogs his nostrils threatening to engulf the air he breathes. His feet fall heavily on the cobble-stones, the soles of his boots leaving imprints on the frosted ground.

She must have been watching him from the living room window, because she throws the door open when he is 23 steps away.

He hands over her present, wrapped in an old newspaper, allowing a small smile to play on his sunken face.

"Surprise."


	4. Firewhisky

**The 25****th**** of December 1973**

**-Firewhisky-**

In the darkness beside the flashing lights of the Christmas Tree, all Severus can smell is alcohol.

It wafts through the still frozen air like poisoned gas, intoxicating and yet terrifying.

His father had come home for Christmas, his unshaven chin grazing his mother's face, the putrid smell of whisky puffing out of his mouth like small clouds.

It is safe by the tree, its lights throwing colours onto Severus' face, silently betraying the anger and resentment captured there.

Green. Red. The lights flash. Green. Red.

Anger and Resentment.


	5. Heart

**The 25****th**** of December 1975**

**-Heart-**

Their legs are intertwined on the faded couch in Severus' living room, her socks are touching his bare feet and he can almost feel the life running through her.

A strand of her hair has stuck to his cheek, but she doesn't seem to realise.

Her eyes are half closed, her hands wrapped around her eggnog, the side of her lip between her teeth in concentration.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" She questions, her drooping eyes now wide, they penetrate his memories, searching for hidden meanings in his silence.

He can no longer hide the smell of alcohol and the dark bruises he once thought of as snowflakes.

"I, I guess I didn't want you to pity me."

She moves closer to him, setting her eggnog on the coffee table and placing a hand over his heart.

"I will never pity you Sev, because I love what is in here," she taps his heart in illustration, "in here."

He nods, his eyes trailing to crumpled wrapping paper on the carpet.

She pecks his lips playfully with her own, her breath like honey.

"I know," he whispers, "I know."


	6. Patronus

**The 25****th**** of December 1977**

**-Patronus-**

He doesn't go home for Christmas.

He doesn't listen to his drunken father abuse his fragile mother; he has built a wall between them now, to keep the snowflakes out.

He sits on a broken swing in the frozen playground, a green woolen scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, performing the patronus charm again and again.

The silver doe trots carefully on the newly fallen snow, its muzzle lifted towards the grey and heavy sky.

Because she does not sit beside him.

It is the first Christmas that he is truly alone, his childhood beliefs extinguished now, his old loves neutralised and rejected.

He holds his wand hand steady, placing all his hope into the wavering silvery figure that sniffs hopefully at the grass peeping out of the snow.


End file.
